


Shark

by Yods



Series: Familiar [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Scenes from Season 1, Strong Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 07:08:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7257616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yods/pseuds/Yods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson never met in room 312 and life carried on all the same.  But one night walking back from his own little firm Foggy does meet the devil of Hell's Kitchen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shark

It hadn´t been easy. Foggy never expected it to be. Starting up a law firm on his own after he decided he just couldn´t live with the way things were going at L & Z was realistically never going to be easy, but he didn’t think it would be this bad. How could he possibly be this overworked when he barely had any clients? It felt like he hadn’t seen or spoken to anyone other than Karen or Helena in forever.

  
Foggy sighed. Ever since Karen’s masked weirdo turned out to be a terrorist things had gotten worse. Karen had turned secretive and squirrelly and now she wasn’t the only one who only saw threats in every dark corner. Even now, walking home at God knows what hour of the morning, he still felt like he was being watched. Goosebumps and a prickling at the back of his neck. Foggy hunched his shoulders and walked faster. When he turned to cross the road he noticed that it felt like someone was following him because _someone was following him_. Shit. No, don’t be hysterical. Someone was walking some distance behind him in the same general direction. Get a grip, Nelson.  


  
Foggy crossed the street and tried not to pay attention to the footsteps closing in behind him. _Coincidence, just a coincidence._ It was very tempting to start running.  


  
“Hey, Nelson!” came a call from being him. Foggy flushed with relief, turned to formulate a friendly reply.  


  
The blow came out of nowhere, knocking him against the wall. And then he was pinned. A forearm on his throat, a knife being waved in his face, too close for him to focus on. Foggy struggled ineffectually. His heart was tripping in panic and with every beat it felt as though his broken nose was going to burst. A face behind the knife leant in with a huff of bad breath and stained teeth. “You should…” and then he was gone. Foggy slumped to the ground and had to blink rapidly to clear his vision.  


  
His attacker was lying on the ground, curled up and whimpering with his arm bent at an unnatural angle. The blood on his face looked black under the washed-out light of the streetlamps. And… and hunched over him, his back to Foggy, stood the devil himself – the man in the mask.  


  
Foggy gasped, or tried to, but the merciless pounding from his nose turned it into a hiss of pain instead. The man in the masked turned, his focus fully on Foggy now. He was breathing heavily, presumably from the exertion beating mr. halitosis to a bloody pulp. The guy tilted his head down at him, jaw clenched and fists at his sides. Foggy stared – he had never seen someone look so dangerous. He was suddenly acutely aware of the blood dripping from his chin and the rough bite of the brick wall against his back. The devil stood in unmoving, uncanny silence for a while, and then, so suddenly that Foggy startled, took a running jump up a fire-escape and disappeared with almost supernatural grace.  


  
Foggy blinked. The situation seemed unreal, but the hammering pain in his face and nausea from the taste of blood made it quite convincing. Another smothered whimper from his attacker brought his attention firmly back to practical matters. Foggy scurried home before any other frightening thing could appear out of the depths.  


  


*****

  


  
“Foggy, what happened?” Karen fussed over him. Normally he would bask in the attention but the pounding headache that had come up to match the pounding in his nose was wearing on his humour.  


  
Foggy waved away her attempt at ministrations. “I’m fine. Someone tried to mug me or something.”  


  
“What! You were mugged? What do you mean ‘tried?”  


  
Foggy took a breath to reply....” Wait, what do you mean ‘or something?”  


  
He grimaced at the brightness of the morning sunlight in the office. Was it the headache or was the sun always this annoying? “Which question would you like me to answer first?” He crossed his arms.  


  
Karen glared at him. “Your sudden moodiness is charming.”  


  
Foggy sighed. He seemed to be doing a lot of that recently. “The guy knew my name. I think he was trying to scare me. Which worked by the way. Can’t figure out why he would bother, though. And then your masked psycho beat him into the sidewalk so I couldn’t exactly ask.”  


  
That got Karen’s attention. “You saw the man in the mask? What did he say?”  


  
“Nothing. He was creepy at me and then he disappeared.” Foggy took a sip of his coffee. His blocked nose muted it into blissful tastelessness. He watched as Karen frowned to herself and chewed on her lip.  


  
“You say he was trying to scare you?”  


  
“That’s the impression I got when he was waving a knife in my face. And then he got interrupted by someone’s fist.”  


  
Karen continued to look worried, now with a side of guilty.  


  
“What’s going on, Karen?”  


  
“I shouldn’t be telling you this.”  


  
“That’s never a good start to a conversation.”  


  
“Uhm, remember when I took money and signed a contract and that I would leave the whole Union Allied thing alone?”  


  
Foggy didn’t like where this was going. “Yes. Distinctly.”  


  
“Well…” This was definitely Karen giving him a guilty look.  


  
“What!” Foggy slammed down his coffee mug. It splashed over his wrist. “Seriously, Karen. These people have already tried to kill you! Twice!”  


  
“I know.” Karen shouted “I know. And they killed Danny. They can’t just get away with that! I won’t let them” she took a deep breath “I’m working with a reporter. Ben Urich, the guy who broke the Union Allied story. He’s a good guy. He warned me that they might come after me again. I really hope they didn’t assume that you’re helping me…”  


  
This wasn’t helping the pounding behind Foggy’s temples. He sighed again. “Fine, fine. But we’re going to have to be careful with this. We can’t…”  


  
“What do you mean we?”  


  
“Seriously? I’m not letting you go sneaking around on your own.”  


  
“You’re not _letting_ me?”  


  
“No. And besides. You’re right. The can’t get away with shit like this.”  


  
Karen just looked at him for a while and then nodded. “OK. We can do this.” She was grimly determined. “We’ll get them for what they’ve done.”  


  
Foggy tried not to sigh as he rubbed coffee out of his jacket sleeve.

  


*****

  
Foggy yawned expansively. He and Karen were working late. Again. It should be dispiriting but it wasn´t. A couple of nights ago they had gone to meet with Ben by the docks in secret as though they were in some spy movie. And slowly but surely it was starting to look like they were getting somewhere. Just hints and threads, but something had to unravel. He yawned again.  


  
Karen grinned at him. She was a lot more upbeat since he found out about her secret mission, since they had started really working together. “Is this your subtle way of telling me we should call it a night?”  


  
Foggy just managed to stifle another yawn. “Either that or I’m going to need a lot more coffee. Clearly I’m getting to old for this shit.”  


  
They were sitting in what was theoretically the second office, which had become their hang-out slash storage area slash occasional sleeping area when one of them was working way too late and home became too far away. Foggy watched as the light from the single lamp they had on as a testament to frugality caught gold in Karen’s hair and eyelashes. He smiled. “Yeah, I should go home. So should you. See you tomorrow.”

  


~

  
He was more alert when walking home, considering he now knew someone might be out to get him. He kept his hand on the taser in his pocket, but tonight it didn’t seem like there was anything wrong. No prickling in his neck. No shady figures following him. Just the breeze that was a bit too cold and too cutting for the light jacket he was wearing. But still, he kept alert, just in case. So when there was suddenly a thump right behind him Foggy whipped round and fired off the taser, heart suddenly racing. The electrodes skittered pointlessly a foot or so to the left of the devil. Who was standing way too close. Foggy could smell sweat and a tang of blood. He rapidly stumbled back a few steps, dropping the taser as he did so. Fuck.  


  
The devil tilted his head at him. He got the impression he had just rolled his eyes. Then with slow, exaggerated movements he removed something from his pocket and held it out to him. It was the kind of movement you’d use to get some skittish animal to eat from your hand. Foggy just managed to be offended enough by this to step in for a moment and snatch the flash drive from his hand. The devil immediately turned and started to walk away.  


  
“Wait! What’s this?”  


  
He stopped, his back still turned. “Everything I’ve got on Wilson Fisk, which isn’t much.”  


  
So he can talk. “Who’s that?”  


  
“Good question. But he runs Union Allied, among other things.”  


  
“What do you want me to do with this?”  


  
“Just keep on with what you’re doing.”  


  
Foggy looked down at the drive in his hand. It was badly scratched and tacky with something he’d rather not think about.  


  
“How did you…?” But when he looked up the devil was already gone.

  


*****

  
Marci smirks at him over her drink. He’s had to get her a new one twice because the one she had wasn’t up to standards. “So apparently you’ve found more important things to do than come see me lately.”  


  
Foggy watched mesmerised as she tapped the glass with a perfectly manicured fingernail. “I’ve been busy.”  


  
“Yes, the conspiracy theory you and the flighty blond are working on. You have to stop talking about that. At the very least stow it when you call me at work. People are going to think I’m hooking up with a loon.”  


  
“Yes, because you clearly value the opinions of the people at work. I’ve heard what you call them.”  


  
“Just because they’re all duplicitous superficial assholes doesn’t mean I want them to realise I’m a soft touch.”  


  
Foggy makes a sound of disbelief.  


  
“Careful, Foggybear.” Only Marci could make a mock threat sound legitimately ominous.  


  
“Come on. You hate working there at least as much as I did.”  


  
“Unlike some people I am quite capable of keeping my moral qualms..” Foggy snorted “… to myself.” She took another dainty sip. “And no-one is actually supposed to like their co-workers. This isn’t high school.”  


  
“Real life is supposed to be better that high school.”  


  
“People who say that sucked in high-school.”  


  
From Marci’s perspective that was probably true. “Come work with me.” He smiled hopefully. “You can get your soul back. And you actually like me.”  


  
“Don’t flatter yourself.” She stirred her drink absentmindedly. “Besides, I quite like being able to pay the rent.”  


  
“Please, you spend more on shoes than you do on rent.”  


  
“Well, I like being able to afford that too.” “Anyway, did you come here to talk about shoes or did you have something more interesting in mind?” She smiled again, all teeth. 

  


  


*****

  


  
Foggy and Karen sit in Josie’s in silence. The half-bottle cheap whiskey they’d drunk between the two of them hadn’t lightened the mood any.  


  
“They _did_ say there was a criminal element in her building. Maybe we should have taken that more seriously.”  


  
Karen shook her head rapidly, her hair falling into her face. “You think it’s a coincidence? We talk her into to staying and fighting and then…”  


  
Foggy grabs at the bottle - it sticks to the table. He was nauseous, maybe more alcohol was not the answer. “…I’m going outside for a moment. Fresh air. Before I vomit on you.”  


  
He can hear her sniff and fumble at the bottle behind him as he leaves.  


  
The stink in the alleyway outside doesn’t really help the churning heat in his gut, but at least his head is a bit clearer. Although at the moment having a clear head wasn’t exactly a good thing.  


  
He leant back against the wall and closed his eyes, trying not to think about how filthy it was and what he was probably getting in his hair. A deliberate throat-clearing from the other end of the alleyway snaps him out of it. His hair catches on brick as he jerks away.  


  
Leaning against the wall with studied nonchalance was the devil.  


  
“Are you stalking me? What do you want?”  


  
“You’re mood’s improved since the last time I saw you.”  


  
“Fuck you. Someone’s died.”  


  
“Señora Cardenas. I know.” He seemed to glide closer, a dark shape in the gloom. “I’ve got more information on Fisk. A money trail. Maybe you can find something I can’t.”  


  
“Why haven’t you just killed the bastard?”  


  
He snapped. “I don’t do that.”  


  
”Well what’s the use of you then?” He shouldn’t be shouting at someone this dangerous. But at the moment it was either shouting or crying. “Besides, you bombed the city. And killed a couple of cops. What’s your game anyway?”  


  
“I didn’t… that wasn’t me.”  


  
“I’m supposed to believe that?”  


  
The devil’s tone became cold. “Believe what you want. Do you want the information or not?”  


  
“Give it here.”  


  
He smoothly tosses the disc over to him. Foggy is unreasonably relieved that he managed to catch it without fumbling. “You need to be careful. All of you. Fisk isn’t taking any chances. I can’t be watching all the time.” Almost all that Foggy can see of him is a flash of teeth in the dark.  


  
He waits until the retreating footsteps are gone and out of range before calling after him. “Hah, so you are stalking me.”

  


*****

  
The sound of distant sirens floats in with the breeze. Foggy leant his elbows on the parapet, beer in his hand. A couple on the street below were laughing. He smiled with them – the world wasn’t all bad. It was however starting to be too cold to be hanging around up here. He liked sitting up here, with the city spread out below. And it was better than drinking alone in his apartment.  


  
He raised his beer for another sip. There was a tap on his shoulder.  


  
“Holy shit!”  


  
He drops the bottle and startles back. It bounces on the parapet but before it can fall to the sidewalk the devil leans in and casually plucks it out of the air.  


  
Foggy just stares.  


  
The devil leans away from him, staring out over the city. The beer dangles loosely from his fingertips. He takes a sip. His posture is a careful mockery of the way Foggy had just been standing there. He makes a note to be outraged once he gets over the fright.  


  
There was a difference, though. Foggy had actually felt content. But even with his elbows propped up on the parapet and a beer, _his_ beer damnit, in his hand, the devil’s spine was still a curve of tension, his shoulders hunched. The relaxed pose was just an act. He was clearly acutely aware of Foggy now standing two feet behind him.  


  
Well, two people can pretend to be relaxed. He took a fortifying breath and took up a companionable position next to him. Their elbows jostled. He was going to have a heart attack if he got any more nervous.  


  
“So, how do you know where I live?”  


  
The devil just glanced at him, clearly amused.  


  
“Oh yeah, the stalking thing.”  


  
“I’m not…” he began heatedly, but huffed and corrected himself. “I checked you out before I started passing you information.”  


  
“You checked me out, did you?” Foggy nodded sagely and waggled his eyebrows. His companion’s mouth moved as he tried to formulate a response.  


  
Ah, embarrassment, the great equaliser.  


  
“I mean, you only just showed up to pass me information the other day. What’s the excuse this time?” It was hard to be afraid of a man who stutters in discomfort.  


  
The devil got his expression back under control. “There _is_ new information. And it’s time sensitive. But we could actually get Fisk.”  


  
Right. This was actually a serious matter. There was still a murderous psycho to take care of. But… “OK. But tell me one thing. Why are you even doing this?”  


  
The devil looked… surprised? “He’s hurting people. Good people.”  


  
“And you care?”  


  
“I care.” His voice was level.  


  
“What are you, some kind of really violent good Samaritan?” The devil looked away. I occurred to Foggy that he was being a jerk.  


  
“Sorry.” This was going great. “The information?”  


  
He turned to face him. “Remember Hoffman? He’s still alive, and he knows everything. Fisk’s moneyman hid him away for leverage, but Fisk found out.”  


  
“So if we can find him first and get him to testify… ?” This could actually work. They could actually get a guy he’d been sure was untouchable.  


  
“I’m looking for him, but there has to be some kind of clue in the files. Hidden holdings, that kind of thing.”  


  
“OK. I’ll call Karen and we’ll start looking immediately. How do we let you know if we find something?”  


  
The devil hands him a phone. Those reinforced black gloves probably leave one hell of a bruise when he punches someone. “Put your number on here.”  


  
Foggy took it and started dialling. “A flip-phone, really?” He wondered who ‘C’ was. Probably safer not to ask. He waited until his phone rang and handed the devil back his burner.  


  
“How about a name, since we’re really working together now?”  


  
He considered. “You _could_ call me Mike.”  


  
“I could, if that were really your name.” The devil smiled, actually smiled.  


  
“Can I have a face to go with that non-name?” He said reaching for the mask, surprised at his daring.  


  
The devil caught his arm without even looking up. Foggy was abruptly reminded who he was dealing with and how badly he was outmatched here, just how dangerous this man could be.  


  
The devil turned sharply and stalked off. Foggy only then noticed how stiffly he moved. “You’re hurt.”  


  
He paused. “I… made a mistake.”  


  
Foggy looked at the tense silhouette across from him. It occurred to him he knew absolutely nothing about him. “Well, be careful.”  


  
He turned and stood there for a while, seemingly considering him from the edge of the fire-escape, before dropping out of view.

  


*****

  
There are stacks of files and loose pages scattered across the conference table. Karen frowned at her laptop, chewing on the ends of her hair. It was adorable and only slightly disgusting.  


  
He could barely make his eyes focus anymore. They’d been at it for hours and hadn’t found a single thing. He leaned back in his chair and cricked his neck. Karen ignored him.  


  
“So, what do you know about the devil?” He attempted to sounds casual.  


  
Karen glanced over her screen at him for a moment, eyebrows raised. “The man in the mask? I don’t know. You’re the one that’s been talking to him.” She went back to reading.  


  
“Sure. But you’ve seen him.”  


  
She didn’t take her eyes of the screen. “He fought a guy, fell out a window, and fought some more in the rain. It was impressive and back-flippy. I’ve told you this already. She sounded distracted. “What are you asking, precisely?”  


  
“I just… wonder what kind of man he is.”  


  
Karen can manage a magnificent eye-roll when she tries. “One with a screw loose, considering he runs around in a mask beating on people. This is something you’re thinking about now? We have to find Hoffman!” She shoves another pile of files at him. “Here. We could really use another pair of hands over here and you’re goofing off.”  


  
Foggy sighs and pulls over the top file of the stack.  


  
“…Wait! I think I’ve found something!”

  


*****

  
They did it. It was unbelievably. It was impossible. But they did it. They found Hoffman. The cops found, well, everyone. The devil found Fisk.  


  
Foggy stood on the roof, waiting. Gravel scattered behind him and he turned around. The figure standing there was impressive.  


  
“I got you your _own_ damn beer this time,” he said sternly, handing it over.  


  
The devil grinned and took it. His nose was bleeding and he was moving more sluggishly than Foggy had ever seen. But he also seemed _happy_ , which was new.  


  
Foggy grinned. “I think the horns are a bit much.” The devil actually tips his head back and laughs. He suddenly looks decidedly dorky – it was astonishingly endearing for a violent criminal.  


  
“What’s with the new outfit?”  


  
“Someone told me to get body armour. I was getting stabbed too much.” He hopped up to sit on the edge and leant his back against the wall, one leg dangling off the roof.  


  
Jesus, the guy was like a cat. Foggy had to resist an urge to pull him away from the edge. “There’s a right amount of getting stabbed?”  


  
“That’s what _she_ said.” Foggy started laughing. “I mean, my friend…” The devil stutters.  


  
Foggy snorts. “To summarise what I know about you: Your name is not Mike and you have a friend of the female persuasion who prefers you not to get stabbed. This is starting to get very specific.” Not-Mike huffed a laugh. Foggy had never seen him seem actually relaxed before. He like it.  


  
Foggy took a sip of his beer and leant back. “I bet you have a day-job too. Unemployment doesn’t pay for horny armour. So that’s another thing I know about you.”  


  
This got him another brilliant smile aimed in his direction.  


  
“You’re probably… a mechanic. Yes, I could see that. All dressed in oily overalls… ‘No ma’am, the carbonator needs replacing.’ And then you hit it with a wrench a couple of times.” He watched the devil’s expression carefully, what he could see of it. A slight twitch of the lips. “No? A bouncer then? I can really see you doing that… No, you’d have to work nights.” Foggy sucked at his teeth. “A boxer? A bit too on-the-nose.” There was suddenly something in his face he couldn’t quite read. Foggy tried to move past it. “Maybe you run a hardware store?”  


  
The devil settled the beer in his lap, loose-limbed and relaxed, but… cautious. “You seem very invested in me being blue-collar.”  


  
This was becoming a real conversation. “Well, you’re definitely a local, and this _is_ Hell’s Kitchen. I was just following the odds.”  


  
He nodded. “That’s fair.”  


  
“Besides, I just can’t image you making water-cooler talk with some guy named Gregg about the latest merger.”  


  
He smiled and shook his head but didn’t say anything.  


  
Foggy found himself wondering why a guy who had just cleaned up the criminal underworld and was now a hero to the entire city was hanging around with a lawyer he had just met a couple of times.  


  
It was quiet between them for a while. There were sirens in the distance. There always were.  


  
The devil tilted his head for a moment, and then relaxed again. Appeared to make a decision. He turned to Foggy and licked his lips. Hesitated. “I’m a lawyer. At Landman and Zack.” Jutted out his chin, almost in challenge.  


  
“ _Shit._ ” He didn’t actually want to know that. Actually finding out who he was would complicate his life way more than he needed right now. On the other hand, it was better to find out like this than to accidentally run into him, which would apparently eventually have happened anyway.  


  
He still hadn’t said anything. He didn’t know what to say. The devil seemed tense again, which was the last thing he wanted.  


  
“How do you reconcile the two? I mean the law and… “ He waves his hand at the masked figure in front of him.  


  
“The work I do at L and Z is far more ethically dubious than what I do get up to at night.” He sounds bitter.  


  
Foggy wonders again what he actually knows about the guy. He’d saved Karen’s life. He’d rescued _him_. He seemed… lonely?  


  
If he works at L and Z he was probably a more than competent lawyer.  


  
He was apparently concerned about ethics.  


  
_Shit_  


  
“Why don’t you come work with me?”  


  
“What?”  


  
“Come join me at my firm. We’ll be Nelson and…” he waves his hand again, “somebody…”  


  
The devil gaped at him. He couldn’t blame the guy.  


  
“I can offer you a fifty percent share of a huge amount of debt, barely no income, and the chance to use the law to do good.”  


  
“Are you being serious?”  


  
“Yes. Yes, I am.” God help him.  


  
“I don’t know…”  


  
Shit, he’s considering it. “You don’t have to make a decision now. Think about it. I’ll get the paperwork sorted. If you show up at the office on Monday I’ll know. And if you don’t, I’ll know that too.”  


  
Foggy picks up his abandoned beer bottle from the ground and heads to the stairwell. He needs to get to his apartment so he can freak out in private. 

  


*****

  
When Foggy gets to the office he opens the door and just stands there, considering. It was probably a good thing there was just a handwritten sign on the door. It would be a shame to have a good one and have to replace it.  


  
Karen had tidied op the scattered stacks of files on the conference table and left the pile in the spare office. The conference room was always tidy. In fact the entire office was always tidy because everything and anything was always dumped in the spare office.  


  
Foggy sighed. What was he going to say to Karen? Just telling her the truth was tempting. And probably the right thing to do. But she might think he was being insane. And if she knows she’ll be complicit if it all comes out.  


  
“Good Morning! What’s with the serious expression? We won. And look!”  


  
She shoves a newspaper in his face. Foggy laughs. “Daredevil. Really? That’s ridiculous.”  


  
“Oh, come on. I like it.”  


  
“Be that as it may, we have to clean up the office.”  


  
Karen looks around, nonplussed. “It is tidy.”  


  
“No, I mean the spare office.”  


  
“What? Why?”  


  
“Because it might not be ‘spare’ indefinitely. I’ve been thinking for a while that we need someone else here. So I’ve invited someone.”  


  
“Who?”  


  
Foggy ignored that. “We could probably put the folding couch in the entrance area. And we’ve needed to get filing cabinets for a while now. We can put one in my office and one in this one and that will take care of most of the stuff in here. And we’ll need a second desk. At the very least.”  


  
“I know a place we can get cheap second hand office equipment.” At least Karen was getting with the program and not asking inconvenient questions he couldn’t answer. “We could go there now and hopefully find what you’re looking for. And tidy up this afternoon.”  


  
“Good idea. And we need to set up the paperwork.” He wondered how to phrase it. “This guy might not come. In fact I don't think he will. But then we’ll just have to find someone else.” Was she buying this? “So you can just leave the name blank for now.”  


  
Karen frowned at him but didn’t say anything.

  


~

  
They ended up getting a couple of mismatched filing cabinets, a rickety desk and a small bookcase with peeling paint.  


  
By the time they’re finished the spare office looks just as dingy as Foggy’s, and the whole office is just a bit more cluttered. He considered the stained ceiling panels and patchy carpet. No amount of sprucing was going to make the place look like anything someone from L & Z was used to.  


  
Foggy’s never felt embarrassed by the state of the office before. This was ridiculous. The devil wasn’t going to give up his identity to a guy he’d just seen, what, three times? And he certainly wasn’t going to give up a high paying job to come join them and get compensated in brisket to help an old lady keep her apartment.  


  
He gave the wonky desk another look and vowed to bring a potted plant to the office for the sake of decor.

  


*****

  
“… and that’s Rabinowitz.” Marci finished with some satisfaction.  


  
“Let’s see. Zeeman. He’s a decent contract lawyer. Good odds on making partner. And he’s a creepy fuck. Used to moon over Murdock. You know, ‘accidentally’ touching him whenever they met. It was gross.”  


  
“Ew, poor guy.”  


  
“Don’t feel too sorry for Murdock, he’s an asshole. Could see way he’d go after him though. Guy’s good looking, if you’re into that kind of thing. He certainly got around. Superficially charming. You know, like a psychopath.”  


  
“Wow, harsh.  


  
“He’ll act all sweet and charming and turn around and tear you to shreds. I’ve seen him make people cry in court. A real shark in a person suit.”  


  
Foggy refrained from commenting on who might also be described that way.  


  
“… and his does the innocent act so well. _Don’t mind me, I’m just a handsome, charming blind guy._ ” Marci snorts.  


  
He nods in encouragement.  


  
“So… Who next? Vanderbilt?” Marci paused. “Why are we doing this again?”  


  
“I mentioned that you’ve never really talk about your colleagues, and the rest just came flowing out.”  


  
She looks at him in supreme scorn. “You’re taking _notes_.”  


  
Foggy glanced at the note-book in front of him.

  


>   
>  _...  
>  Walker – Coke fiend, impressive resume, good hair  
>  Rabinowitz – Boring family man, steals stationery  
>  Zeeman – Contract lawyer  & pervert  
>  Murdock – Blind, sexy shark  
>  Vanderb  
>  _  
> 

  


He didn’t know quite what he’d hoped to gain by getting Marci of all people to describe her coworkers. And now she was asking questions. Great.  


  
He thought quickly. “I’m just looking for dirt on someone.”  


  
“You’re going to owe me.”  


  
“That’s a given.”  


  
“OK. So Vanderbilt …“

  


*****

  
Foggy arrives early on Monday morning with a small fern. It does nothing. He’s jittery enough for Karen to notice.  


  
“Why is there a plant on the conference room table?”  


  
“That seemed like a good place for it.”  


  
“Let me rephrase. Why is there a plant in the office at all?”  


  
He shrugged, not meeting her eyes. “Thought it might look nice.”  


  
“Are we expecting someone? You’re all ‘first date’ nervous.”  


  
“Am not.” Karen looked amused.  


  
He retreated to his office and tried to get some actual work done. Which is difficult considering he’s looking up at the door every couple of seconds. This was ridiculous. He wasn’t going to come. It would be insane for him to come. Foggy stared determinedly at the page in front of him, refusing to look up again. The back of his neck itched.  


  
There was a knock at the door. There was _someone_ at the door. He stood up. “There’s someone at the door.”  


  
Karen was already halfway there. “I can tell.”  


  
There was a man in a sober grey suit, holding a box under one arm. It was him. He was younger than he’d expected, and somehow looked smaller, but he recognised the jawline, the curve of his lips. He still had one hand up to knock at the door. The three of them just stood there.  


  
Foggy took in the dark glasses and cane dangling from his wrist. Wow, pretending to be blind was a dick move. Probably really good cover, though.  


  
Foggy mentally reviewed his list. He stepped forward and held out his hand. “Mr Murdock,” Murdock tried to hide his surprise. “So nice of you to join us.” What an inane thing to say.  


  
Murdock switched the box to his other arm and held out his arm, slightly off centre. Foggy corrected and shook his hand. “Nelson. Good to formally meet you.” Well, at least he wasn’t the only one being awkward.  


  
“Could I help you with that…” Foggy indicated at the box. Murdock frowned slightly. Oh, yeah, the blind thing. “…box?” This was going to be more difficult than he thought. He took the box off him.  


  
Karen stepped forward and held out her hand. “Mr Murdock? Karen Paige.” He didn’t respond to her hand. This wasn’t getting any less awkward.  


  
But he smiled, and instantly Foggy could see what Marci meant by ‘the charming act’. “Please, call me Matt.” Karen almost curtseyed, flustered.  


  
“Would you mind giving me a tour of the space?” Foggy had been so worried about a violent vigilante coming to work with them that he’d forgotten to worry about whether the guy might be an asshole.  


  
“Uhm, OK” She tucked her hair behind her ears and cautiously took him by the elbow, guiding him along. Murdock tilted his head at her. That was a familiar gesture. Up to now it had been easy to lose sight of the devil.  


  
“This is Foggy’s office. Desk is four feet to your right. Through here is the conference room. There’s a plant on the table. That’s new.” Foggy was aware he was being made fun of. “Kitchenette is to your left, maybe six feet. And this is…” Karen glanced at back him. Foggy nodded. “… your office, I guess.”  


  
Karen let go of his arm and he walked in, cane extended, until he reached the desk. Put his palm flat on the desktop and smiled to himself. Foggy hoped he couldn’t tell how much it wobbled.  


  
Murdock turned to face him. “Are you sure about this?” He had earnest eyebrows.  


  
God no. “Are you?”  


  
“I already quit at L and Z. This morning. During the emergency staff meeting.”  


  
A grand exit – the guy has a sense of drama. “Wish I could have seen it. Did you give everyone the middle finger and pee in the fountain?”  


  
Murdock didn’t seem to know what to do with his face. “I… did not. I’ll keep it in mind for next time.” The sedate, dignified thing did not seem to be an act. Interesting.  


  
“Dude, if you pee in our fountain I will be annoyed.”  


  
“If we ever get a fountain I’ll keep it in mind.” He said crisply. Foggy grinned. He was catching up.  


  
Karen was working hard to stop herself from laughing.  


  
“Should we get started on the paperwork?” He started to the conference room. “… we don’t have a Braille printer. Those exist, right?”  


  
“They do. I’ll arrange it. In the meantime my computer has a Braille display.”  


  
“Right.”

  


The next couple of hours were paperwork. Technically it should be boring, but Foggy’s was signing over half _his_ firm (and half his dept) to a total stranger. It surprised him how resistant he was to the idea. They needed a second lawyer here. And turning Murdock away after getting him to quit his job would be an asshole move in the extreme. But the firm was _home_. And Murdock was serious and polite, and could clearly be charming when he tried to, but he was also distant and reserved. It would do nothing for the easy comfort they had here, between him and Karen, and he didn’t want things to change. And after all, who knows what kind of nut Murdock was? He’d have to have some serious issues to do what he does. And if he ever got caught he’d be an accessory – no-one would believe he didn’t know.  


  
Was this really the kind of person he wanted here at _his_ firm? The kind of person who… quit a respectable job with good prospects to come work with him to help the little guy? That was exactly the kind of person he wanted to work with.  


  
Foggy watched as his surprisingly elegant hands traced the Braille display. Any personality conflicts could be dealt with. And if he got caught Foggy would lie like a bastard and try to cover for him.  


  
Foggy signed with a flourish. “Welcome to Nelson and Murdock.”

  


~

  
It takes a good deal of whining and cajoling to get Murdock, _Matt_ , to join them for a celebratory drink at the end of the day. It suddenly occurred to Foggy that that spending all night punching people leaves very little actual free time for socialising.  


  
Karen is clearly fascinated by the guy. He got the impression that she kept trying to stare at him when he wasn’t looking, and then realising that _of course he wasn’t looking._ He was going to have to warn her to back off a little before she starts asking questions that she shouldn’t.  


  
“So you worked at Landman and Zack? What made you decide to leave? I mean, we’re great and all, clearly, but…”  


  
Foggy looks up in interest, but Matt doesn’t seem to know how to respond. He decides to rescue him. “He wants to help us protect the little guy from our corporate overlords.”  


  
Karen scoffs at him. Matt keeps his expression pointed exclusively at his glass. “Well, yes.”  


  
She giggles in delight. “An ethical lawyer, fighting the forces of evil.”  


  
“Hey!” Foggy’s a little stung. “You say that like you’ve never met a good lawyer before.”  


  
Karen turns on him fondly. “Yes, but you’re _Foggy_ , being a good guy is just who you are.”  


  
Matt nodded seriously. “That’s true, I checked.”  


  
Foggy snorted. He wasn’t entirely sure whether he was being mocked or not. Matt tilts his head at him and raises his eyebrows slightly, just the edge of a grin on his face. He was being trolled. This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not done with this version of Matt and Foggy by a long shot. There are a couple of other projects that I’m working on, but after that there will definitely be scenes of Matt and Foggy actually getting to know one another.


End file.
